machinegodfandomcom-20200213-history
What Boris Saw
Boris stepped out of the Hive Hopper and climbed the stairs up to the North Slums. The North 40s was a cesspool of human detritus. It's stark poverty and depraved populous sitting beneath the shade of the Oracles most affluent districts. There were no topside entrances to the city from the North 40's, there were guarded barriers and armed corporate outposts. With no real outer perimeter here the sand storms blew red and thick through the streets and most people wore cloth to cover their heads and mouths in outlander style. Those who could afford it also wore breathing apparatus. Boris made his way to a familiar store where an old wiry haired Borka matron sat wide legged and drunk, swigging from a clay jar. Looking up she gave Boris a toothless grin and handing him the jar. "Napitok!" she barked as he obeyed and took a long drink of the thick spirits. He smacked his lips as the burning liquid traveled to his stomach and handed back the jar. "Na Zdorovie." he belched and she laughed as she stood and ushered him into her makeshift store. "You journey today?" she asked. "Da. It is good that I am away for a time." "Nothing is changed out there l'venok." "I know this." Boris nodded as he watched her rummage through her wares. "Ah here it is." she pulled out a large trunk and dropped it at his feet. Boris knelt down and opened the lid. "All is there l'venok, as you leave it." She looked down as he pulled out an assortment of items meant for travel in the martian wastes. He tucked it away into his duffel bag, all except the jacket and headgear which he put on there and then. The last items he withdrew were a heavy wrench which he tucked into his belt and shotgun which he tucked into his long jacket. The old woman laughed and slapped her thighs, "This is good, you are Borka again!" "Never again." Boris answered shaking his head slowly. Making his way out of the store Boris turned to see an odd couple making their way down the street. They wore Borka clothing but were not of the clans by the look of them. Outcasts perhaps? Run aways? He found himself following them. He could sense little tech about them, just the usual medical enhancements required for Outland life. Poor then... strangely they made a beeline for the Boiler Room one of the Slums rougher establishments. Boris hesitated for a moment before following. The girl muscled her way into the crowd and picking several drunken goons proceeded to engineer a fight with them. It was clearly a well practiced con and interestingly the girl seemed to be taking the lead leaving her real muscle standing off to one side looking concerned for the most part. What was this? It was turning nasty now and several of the goons had armed themselves. This could go horribly wrong. Boris saw one of the men at the back of the crowd sliding a handgun from his pocket. Frowning the Borka reached out and tripped the circuits on the weapons coil dampeners causing them to spark and electrocute the would be shooter. The man cursed and dropped the gun back into his pocket, stepping away from the fight to nurse his hand. The big lad was in the fight now and they were holding their own. They had some skill and Boris started to get an idea. Two outland run aways looking for a place to stay and poor old Sam unprotected in the South 40s with Boris away. He would have received the note by now. The fight was over and the two now sat at the bar the cash of their 'victims' about to buy a round of drinks. The hulking Borka walked over and took a seat next to them and waved over to the bartender, "This drink, it is on me." Boris sensed the guy with the gun moving in for another go and glitched his gun again. This time it misfired taking of the mans toe to the roaring delight of all the onlookers. The girl was looking warily up at Boris and then back to her companion. Brother, he decided, it was in the looks and they way they stood together. This is good, he thought. Sam needs family around him. "I buy you drink, you tell me story and then... then perhaps I give you job. Good?" Boris did not wait for an answer as he knocked back his first vodka.